


Soul Power

by daysinbetween



Category: The Smiths
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-19 18:37:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11319261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daysinbetween/pseuds/daysinbetween
Summary: Morrissey's been sent off to attend a boarding school for gifted, abnormally powerful teenagers. With a Superscore of 23, he certainly fits this description. But someone else at his new school has a score even higher. People speak of him with awe and fear - Johnny Marr's name is spoken in hushed whispers through empty corridors, is uttered in deserted rooms and lingers in Morrissey's brain whenever he's not asleep. (He really didn't ask for this!)(everyone has superpowers! oh and it's set in the 90s i dont?? know)





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> pls keep an open mind i swear its not weird omgf
> 
> a superscore is a dumb thing i made up which is basically how dangerous someone is  
> like the higher it is the more powerful they are and vice versa  
> its the sum of the levels of all the superpowers they have 
> 
> its explained better in the story hahah pls leave opinions in the comments

 

 

"Name?" squawked the elderly woman sitting behind the large, wooden receptionist's desk. Her beady eyes peered up at him, impatient, and he faltered.

  
"M-Morrissey," he answered quietly.

  
He kept his eyes trained on the shiny, tiled floor. The shrill tone of a number of phones ringing around him made him flinch, his shoulders tense, bony hands gripping his backpack straps as if for comfort. _Brinng, brinng, brinng. Flinch._

  
"Full name," she growled. The woman's unending eye contact made Morrissey feel moderately uncomfortable, and he had only been on the premises for less than ten minutes.

  
This didn't seem like a good start. He clutched the straps tighter and swallowed.

  
"Steven Patrick Morrissey," he replied in a soft tone.

  
The woman's obnoxiously garish, red fake nails clacked against the plastic keyboard as she typed.

  
S-t-e-v-e-n. _Clack, click_. P-a-t-r-i-c-k. _Click, clack_. M-o-r-r-i-s-s-e-y. _Clack, click, clack. Flinch_.

  
"Got there in the end, didn't we?" she muttered under her breath.

  
Steven's eyes followed her pale, wrinkly hand as it slowly travelled across the desk to grip the mouse connected to the computer. He thought he would be dead by the time she managed to finish typing out his student card. He ignored her impoliteness, choosing instead to stare at the black and white floor tiles some more.

  
He wondered why everything in here was so clinical. Easy to replace in the likely event of an accident, perhaps? Did they have a storeroom full of monochrome tiles, black, plastic chairs that he could hardly fit on, and dull, wooden tables so commonly found in classrooms?

  
"Age?"

  
"Er. Eighteen," he answered. It was hard to resist adding a small tinge of pride to his voice. _I am of age. An adult. Marvellous._

  
1-8. _Clack, click, flinch._

  
Her eyes left the ancient computer monitor to meet his, peering over the top.

  
Slowly, they travelled down his face, his long neck, his torso, his embarrassingly skeletal arms and then his endless legs. Was she sizing him up?

  
Her lip lifted with a sneer as her narrowed eyes met his, nails clacking loudly against the desk as she tapped them rhythmically. Then, in a low, distrustful voice, she spoke:

  
" _Capabilities?"_

  
This was something he'd never been asked to include on a student ID card prior to moving to this school. He would have said, writing, singing, reading, had he been asked before. Now... things were different.

  
Morrissey had always had his Powers.

  
That was to be expected. His father had his, and his Mother too, before Steven. It was said that 55-70% of UK citizens had what was called an 'Ability', a 'Capability' or in colloquial terms, a 'superpower'. He was no different than anyone else like him.

  
It was just...

  
His father had Ecological Empathy, the ability to sense the overall wellbeing and condition of his environment, coming from a natural psychic sensitivity to nature.

  
The government rated this Power a Level 5, judging by the threat posed to the overall population or one's immediate vicinity if used with malevolent intent.  
The scale went up to 8. His father's Power, of which he had one, was pretty standard, giving the man an overall Superscore of five.

  
His mother had an even lower Superscore of four, as her only Power was Omni-linguism, a Level 4 Power. Impressive, but mostly harmless.

  
Most people had one Power, however, some people were born with two or more, but it was rare. A person's Superscore was the total number that all of a person's Powers' Levels added up to.

  
His father's only Power had a Level of 5, meaning his Superscore was 5, and his mother's was 4, meaning her Superscore was 4.

  
This was below average in the UK, with the average score being 6. Morrissey, having been born from two sub-average, impressive but mostly harmless parents with mainly benign Powers, had never been expected to amount to much. At least in a Super sense.

  
However...

  
"Capabilities?" The inherently pissed off receptionist's eyes narrowed further, her eyebrows furrowed.

  
He blinked. Oh yes, student identification. He repeated the words he had memorised, his voice stilted as if he was reading from a textbook.

  
"Omni-Linguism, Level 4."

  
_Click, clack, click_. She waited expectantly, seeing if he would continue.

  
"Ecological Empathy, Level 5."

  
Her eyebrow raised slightly. She seemed impressed. _Clack, click, clack._ She pressed enter and looked up at him again.

  
"Your Superscore is 9, correct? Yes. Next on the form-"

  
"Oh." Morrissey interrupted. "I haven't finished, yet. Er. Sorry."

  
He shifted uncomfortably. The woman looked up from the screen, and her grey eyes widened almost imperceptibly. She inhaled impatiently, before nodding to continue.

  
"Er. Plant Manipulation, Level 6."

  
_Click. Clack. Click._

  
She was typing more slowly this time, as if she was in awe, and it was making Steven feel nervous. He felt like he had somehow done something wrong by having a higher Superscore than what was average.

  
"And..." he continued. She looked up and met his eyes.

 

 _Four?_ She said wordlessly. _You're fibbing. Four Powers?_

  
He licked his lips nervously. "Pheremone Manipulation. Level 8."

  
_Click... Clack. Click._  
"S-so, Steven." She looked up at him and smiled tightly. He smiled back, cautious, wary and confused. "Your Superscore adds up to..." She coughed. "23."

  
"Yes."

There was a tense silence.

  
"You are aware this Score is only one less than four times the national average?"

  
"Uh. Yes." He swallowed. "That's why I'm here. 'Gifted', the sign says, does it not?"

  
"It does, yes. But... we only have a handful of pupils with a Score above ten, or eleven. You must realise what kind of a shock this comes to us, the kind of... precautions, we must take, as you having the Superscore you do denotes some... powerful ability..."

  
Morrissey flushed at that. It appeared his mother wasn't jesting when she had repeated that his Score was abnormally high, and so he was abnormally powerful. It was no wonder she had sent him away, here, to be kept. _Quarantined_ , he thought sourly.

  
"I can imagine." He hiked his bag up his shoulder (it was aching), as if reminding her it was there, and he was waiting to get to his dorm. The rest of his belongings had already been taken there.

  
"Yes." She coughed. "The rest of the form. Date of birth, please."

  
"22nd May, 1975."

  
_Click, clack, click_. He flinched again. God, this was tedious.

  
"Thank you." She met his eyes over the monitor again, and the wrinkles on her face were pulled taut when she smiled at him tightly once more.

  
"Now, follow me and your picture can be taken for your ID." She stood from her old swivel chair on wobbly, thin legs, and walked around the desk. Morrissey followed her as she left the room and travelled down the corridor.

  
More than once did her eyes flick back to him suspiciously, looking wary and doubtful, but she offered another tight-lipped smile when he looked confused, tilting his head. However, he said nothing.

  
They entered a small room. In it was a camera which sat on a tripod, positioned to face a wide, white screen, as well as some large photography lights which were also facing the screen.

  
On the floor, red masking tape had been stuck to the wooden lino in the shape of an X. Morrissey guessed that was where he would have to stand for the photo.

  
Leading from the camera were a multitude of multicoloured wires of all girths, which ended when they plugged into an ancient computer, which was on top of another boring wooden desk. They trailed across the floor.

  
The loud sound of a sudden, incongruous snore made him look up.

  
Sat on a chair, next to the desk, was a boy. He was leant back on the chair perilously, long legs propped up on the desk.

  
Despite this, he was sound asleep and snoring loudly, arms crossed across his chest.

 

The angry receptionist growled when she saw.

  
"Bloody... Rourke!" she exclaimed loudly.

  
The chair almost toppled when the boy, Rourke, startled awake. However, almost as if it had never happened and he had never been sleeping in the first place, the boy was standing up, wide awake, in front of them.

  
Morrissey blinked. How had he woken himself and stood up, in the blink of an eye? Less than a second? A mere _milisecond?_

  
"Are you doing your job?" asked the woman angrily, slamming a palm on the desk, making the computer wobble and the table groan.

  
"Yes, I am!" said the boy earnestly. However, groggy hints of sleep still lined his voice and demeanour tellingly.

 

"You'd better not test me, Rourke. You're on thin ice as it is, and your mother-"

 

"Calm down, love, you know your blood pressure can't take it."

 

"Oh! I ought to-"

  
The boy noticed Steven. He grinned playfully.

  
"New student, eh?" His voice was teasing.

  
"Of course," answered the receptionist on Morrissey's behalf, sounding furious and endlessly impatient. "You are to take the photo for his ID."

  
"Yup! Step right this way," Andy smiled.

  
He inched around the desk, a difficult feat in the tiny room, and moved to switch on the camera.

  
It beeped, whirred and groaned when he pressed a button. The angry receptionist sent one final tight lipped smile Morrissey's way and left the room, shutting the door loudly behind her.

  
Morrissey sent a glance towards Rourke, wary, and placed his heavy bag on a plastic chair, similar to the one Andy had been asleep on.

  
He then walked to the red X on the floor and stood, his back facing the white screen behind him. He felt uncomfortable as he was instructed to stare into the camera lense by the boy.

  
"Perfect! The camera loves you!"

  
Quick as it had started, a flash nearly blinded him from the large photography lights, and his picture had been taken.

  
"There you go. Perfect. So. What's your name?" the boy was looking at him, and had moved from behind the camera to the computer.

  
Morrissey followed him to stand by his side, peering at the image of himself now projected upon the screen.

  
"Morrissey," he answered.

  
The boy held out his hand, to shake, which Morrissey took.

  
"I'm Andy. Good to meet you," Andy said, grinning at him.

  
"You too," Morrissey sent a hesitant smile.

  
"I just gotta send this to Ms Gilligan, and you'll get your ID." Andy hunched over the computer as he did so. Steven watched him do it, unsure of what else he was to do.

  
"Bit shy, aren't you?" Andy said, looking up at him, after a minute of silence. Morrissey flushed a little.

  
"Erm. Quite."

  
"It's alright." Andy huffed a laugh, and pressed a few keys. "There we are. Just head back to Ms Gilligan - she's the angry lady you've already met - and tell her Andy sorted it out."

  
"Oh. Okay, thank you," Morrissey smiled and grabbed his bag, hiking it over his shoulder again. Then he opened the door.

  
He'd just left the room when he heard Andy call him back. He turned. His brain screamed at him, _you've done something wrong, idiot, idiot, idiot-_

  
"Hey, I'll see you around, yeah?" Andy smiled, friendly. Morrissey exhaled. Fuck.

  
"Yes. See you," he gave an awkward wave and closed the door to the sound of Andy's chuckle.

 

 

 


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> won't be able to post for the next week because im travelling but here's this for now woooo

Morrissey stared down at his Student ID.

  
His name, 'Steven P. Morrissey', and age, '18'.

  
'D.O.B: 22/5/75'.

  
'Capabilities: Ecological Empath, (L5), Omni-linguist (L4), Plant Manipulator (L6), Pheremone Manipulator (L8)'.

  
All listed in small font, the Levels in bold. At the end of the list was his 'Superscore: 23'. The number was in red, and underlined. He hated to think what that meant.

  
The photo was even worse. He looked bemused and uncomfortable. He was making direct eye contact with the camera, his face tilted downwards a little, his eyebrow cocked.

  
Morrissey didn't think it looked like him - he was too shy. This version of him didn't look shy. Maybe it meant something. He chose not to think about it.  
With a sigh, he pushed the ID into his wallet next to his bus card (virtually useless, now, what with him being sequestered here at the school, out in the countryside).

  
He took a deep breath and searched his brain for a moment before remembering where he had been told the location of his dorm was.

  
Block 1, Room 14. _Alright, now I just have to find it._

  
Exiting the office building, out on the steps, he stopped.

  
The back of his brain was itching. It was like a tiny insect was traipsing around the back of his head. It was a niggling sensation, very difficult to ignore, and he felt compelled to stop and inspect it.

  
Morrissey knew what it meant - some part of the school grounds must be in the process of dying. _Brilliant. Fucking ecological empathy._

  
Looking around him, though, it looked like the groundskeeper did a good job of keeping the plants, shrubbery and grass in order. So why was his brain niggling at him, telling him something was wrong? Why were his fingers twitching where they were, clutching onto the straps of his backpack?

  
Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply and leant his head back. He allowed his brain to zero in on the itch, and slowly, his external surroundings disappeared. Everything was silent and black.

  
He was a shark sensing blood in the ocean, in the dark - and he was ready to allow the base, animal, Super part of him to lead him to where he was needed.   
He felt the tug, pulling him, a map quickly being made in his head. He could feel the movement, the plant's breathing-

  
"Hey, Morrissey!"

  
He jerked back to awareness, gasping in short, shallow breaths. He was leant forward with his hands on his knees, struggling. He had never been pulled back so sharply and unexpectedly before.

  
A hand landed on his shoulder.

  
"God, y'alright? I didn't mean to startle you, mate." Andy looked concerned.

  
Morrissey stood up straight and looked to him. He felt embarrassed. _God, what an idiot._

  
"You okay?" Andy asked again when he failed to answer.

  
"Oh. Yes, yes, I'm fine." Morrissey licked his lips, nervous. "H-How did you know where I went?"

  
Andy laughed. "Well, for one, you're standing right outside the door," Andy motioned behind them and Morrissey blushed.

  
"Ah." He uttered.

  
"Also, I just tracked you."

  
Caught off guard, Morrissey blinked at him. Did he hear that right?

  
"I'm sorry, you... what?" he asked.

  
Andy laughed again. Morrissey felt a little bit like he had achieved something when he heard it. _I'm not entirely socially inept!_

  
"I tracked you. It's one of my Powers. Superhuman tracking, Level 5." He smirked.

  
"Oh. So... you just knew where I was?"

  
"Yeah! Whenever I meet someone I like, my brain sort of attaches this marker to them. Not literally, of course! I can't tell where you are all the time, obviously - I have to try and focus on it. Of course, if you're uncomfortable with it, I can get it to stop, it's fine-"

  
"No, it's fine. I don't mind." Morrissey noticed the unconvinced look on Andy's face. "Really."

  
"If you say so." Andy smiled again. "So what are you doing out here, looking like you're in pain?"

  
Morrissey flushed red. "Oh. My brain itched."

  
Andy's expression turned confused and slightly alarmed. _Oh, wait-_

  
"God, I mean - no. I'm an Ecological Empath. I'm... sensitive to... nature. It's wellbeing. How it feels."

  
His friend(!!) exhaled loudly, laughing quietly under his breath.

  
"I was confused! But hey, that's so cool!"

  
"Thank you." Morrissey flushed even further.

  
"So why was your brain itching?" Andy looked intrigued, leaning forward with interest.

  
"I felt-"

  
**_Zap!_ **

  
Morrissey stumbled backwards in surprise when a boy suddenly appeared, next to them.

  
Andy was also taken by surprise by the newcomer's sudden appearance, and he reacted on reflex, body launching forward in one quick leap to jump the boy. The two fell back, Andy on top, and hit the ground.

  
They fell down the short concrete steps until they reached the pavement. Luckily, the school's gated entrance was far away, and they were far into the school grounds, so there was no chance of anyone seeing them.

  
"Shit," Morrissey said. Andy was yelling, and rolling the two bodies around on the floor forcefully, wrestling. He looked extremely angry. Maybe he should go...?

  
That was when he realised the boy beneath Andy was laughing. Oh.

  
So this was a joke then. A joke between friends. Maybe he _should_ go...

  
"Mike! You fucking _wanker!_ " Andy yelled, sitting on Mike, leaning in so their faces were close. Mike was grinning evilly.

  
"Ha! Told you I'd get you, dickhead!"

  
"Sorry, did you forget about my superhuman agility and reflexes?! Have you got a death wish?"

  
"With you sitting on top of me, _yes!_ Get off!"

  
Andy huffed and stood up. Awkwardly, Morrissey stood and watched.

  
"Well! Aren't you going to introduce us?" Mike grinned brightly and came to shake Morrissey's hand.

  
"Yes." Andy rolled his eyes at Mike and joined them, brushing himself off. "Mike, this is Morrissey. Morrissey, this is Mike."

  
"Hello," Hesitantly, Morrissey shook Mike's hand in return.

  
"Hi! So, what's your Score? Bet you can't beat mine."

  
Morrissey blinked. That was unexpected.

  
"Oh, God! Mike, you can't just ask people what their Score is-" Andy threw his hands in the air exasperatedly.

  
Mike turned to him and glared. "Sure you can! Morrissey - My score is 22, and I have the coolest Powers of anyone you'll ever meet." His voice lowered. "Well, except maybe Jo-"

  
"Mike!"

  
"What? I'm just telling him."

  
Morrissey watched the two in front of him bicker. He felt overwhelmed, but also strangely interested in what Mike was saying. He wanted to know what Powers Mike had, or if his Score was really 22 like he had said.

  
It was odd for Morrissey, this in-depth discussion of Powers. Before, he was always instructed to never mention it in case he had to reveal his strength. His mother had always said it could scare people off. But now, he was free to discuss it whenever he liked.

  
"What are your Powers?" he asked, inadvertently interrupting them. Andy sighed, muttering, _don't encourage him, please._

  
Mike grinned again. "Invisibility, Level 8, Psionic blast, Level 7 and Sonic scream, which is also Level 7." His voice dripped with pride. Morrissey could practically see his ego coming out of his ears.

  
Andy tutted. "He just likes to show off that he's in the top 25%."

  
"You have the same Score as me! Why not show off?"

  
"Because I'm not a _dick._ "

  
"Wait. So what are your Powers?" Morrissey asked Andy. The two had the same Score?

  
"I can create portals, which is Level 7. That's my coolest one. My others are all Level 5, which Mike loves to tease me about. Superhuman Tracking, which you saw, Superhuman agility/reflexes which you also kind of saw, and Summoning." Andy shrugged.

  
"You're weak, Andy!" Mike teased ruthlessly.

  
"We have the same Score!" Andy repeated, looking irritated.

  
"Yeah, but mine are cooler." Mike crossed his arms. triumphant.

  
Andy tried to change the subject. "What are your Powers?" he asked Morrissey.

  
Morrissey still felt strange talking about it. However, he took a deep breath and answered.

  
"Pheromone manipulation which is Level 8, Plant manipulation which is Level 6, Ecological empathy, Level 5, and Partial Omni-linguism which is Level 4. So my Score is 23."

  
"You can manipulate Pheromones?!" Mike gasped. "That's cool. Can you make me hungry?"

  
Morrissey took a deep breath. He focused in on Mike, zeroing in on him down to the last atom. He simply allowed his brain to make the correct functions, and with a slight buzz in his temples, he released the pheromones.

  
In response to them, Mike's eyes glazed over and his shoulders slumped. His pupils dilated.

  
Andy's eyes widened and he looked on in disbelief as a sheen of sweat appeared on Mike's brow, and a pink flush appeared high on his cheekbones and travelled down his neck.

  
"Wait, wait, stop!" Mike babbled. His voice was high pitched and the flush was only increasing. Morrissey stopped.

  
A loud laugh reached his ears, coming from Andy. The boy looked endlessly animated, laughing and pointing at Mike, whose entire face had turned crimson. He was angling his body away from them curiously.

  
"What?" Morrissey asked, confused.

  
Andy wiped fat tears from his eyes and fell into giggles when Mike released a low whine.

  
"You gave him a _boner_." Andy choked.

  
"I- Oh my God." Morrissey's mouth opened in shock, his expression twisting into one of dawning realisation.

  
"Oh my God!" Mike zapped invisible in pure humiliation, disappearing from sight.

  
"I'm sorry!" Morrissey tried to rectify the situation, but Mike's low groans (still audible despite his invisibility) and Andy's chortling were drowning him out.

  
"You... are _gold,"_ Andy wheezed, still struggling to talk, a hand gripped on Morrissey's shoulder.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> IM SORRY


End file.
